


Prompt Fills

by abysmal_seraph (absymal_seraph)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Established Relationship, F/M, Fighting, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:45:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absymal_seraph/pseuds/abysmal_seraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles written for prompts I received on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Full Tilt (Pre-Slash Bruce/Steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve thinks his whole world view might have just shifted in the last ten minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Zekkass'](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/pseuds/Zekkass) prompt 'broken glasses'. Set in the same verse as [Already Falling](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1603169).

Steve thinks his whole world view might have just shifted in the last ten minutes. He stares, wide eyed and shocked, trying to remember how he went from stumbling across Bruce in the middle of getting mugged in a dark alley to watching him whale on the guy who’d been trying to rob him. Steve’s not even sure how he showed up just in time to witness this but they’re not far from Bruce’s place. It’s not the strangest coincidence to happen to Steve.

Bruce fights dirty and mean, fights like a cornered animal, lashing out with feet when he’s knocked down. He plants a knee in the jerk’s gut when he tries to crawl on top of Bruce to punch him, follows it up by grabbing a nearby trashcan lid and starts drumming away with the guy’s head for a beater. The metal rings with the impact, covering the yelp of pain that went with it. Bruce uses the distraction to work his way to his feet and swing the lid again, catching the guy in the upper back.

The fight’s basically over after that. Bruce’s would-be mugger runs off scared from the little geeky guy acting like he’s out to kill somebody. Bruce looks ready to follow but stops, body straining, eyes falling on Steve for the first time.

“Um hi,” Bruce says, which is closer to how Steve’s used to seeing him, but there’s still a wild gleam in his eyes that makes Steve shiver. “I, uh, I have anger issues.”

“You and me both, buddy,” Steve says, because joking easier than wrapping his head around the image before him, Bruce rumpled and dirty with bloody knuckles. “You okay?”

Bruce nods, licks his lips. His tongue lingers at the edge of split skin, testing the injury. “I lost my glasses.”

Steve looks for him, trying to ignore the switchblade he stumbles across long before he finds them. They’re broken, one lens sporting a huge crack and the frame twisted a little.

“Sorry you had to see that,” Bruce says, self-conscious. He takes the broken glasses when Steve offers them, holds them inches away from his face so he can squint disapprovingly at the damage.

“Nah, it was educational.” It’s true. Steve’s going to have dreams about this. Sticky, sticky dreams. “Come on, let’s go to your place and clean you up. Fair warning, I’m takin’ you to the hospital if that knife caught you. No fighting me on this.”

Bruce manages a weak chuckle, hands up in surrender. He’s looking at Steve like he’s trying to figure him out, but he doesn’t resist when Steve leads him out of the alley.


	2. Kept Man (Pre-Slash Sam/Steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not that Sam’s out of practice. (He is. He is so out of practice. Riley would laugh his ass off if he could see it) But he’s pretty sure Steve has been flirting with him since... Well, the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was anything post Cap 2. I don't think there are any spoilers.

It’s not that Sam’s out of practice. (He is. He is _so_ out of practice. Riley would laugh his ass off if he could see it) But he’s pretty sure Steve has been flirting with him since... Well, the beginning.

But even if he’s not, he’s definitely trying to turn Sam into a kept man.

“I do have money. I can pay for my own breakfast,” Sam points out, a laugh in his voice. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you paying for all the hotel rooms. I don’t need Captain America to be my sugar daddy.”

“What if he wants to be?” Steve asks after swallowing, wriggling his eyebrows as he takes another bite. “Come on, I’m old. Creaky old men like giving pretty young things stuff. Makes us feel important.”

“Yeah, you have so much trouble feeling important.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence when the waitress comes. She doesn’t recognize _Steve_ but she recognizes gorgeous when she sees it. She doesn’t linger around the table, too professional for it, but she does give Steve one last long look before moving on.

“Our waitress was appreciating the view of the nearest national treasure,” Sam says, grinning wide and easy.

“She’s pretty,” Steve says without looking away from Sam, and yeah, Sam’s not _that_ out of practice. “You know, it’s not a bad thing. Letting someone take care of you, I mean.”

Sam laughs though he’s starting to think Steve means it. “You’re still on that, huh? Why’s it so important?”

Steve thinks about it a moment before answering. “Because I want to pay you back. Because you deserve it. Because I’ve never gotten to properly take care of someone else before. Because I can afford to do it instead of wondering if I can scratch together enough to get by. Because I _can_.”

“And you think I’m going to indulge you on that?”

“Aren’t you?” Steve asks, edging towards hopeful. Sam can see the future in that moment, Steve taking care of him in ways that have less to do with money and maybe sex and more about comfort and fondness and chasing away bad dreams. He’s not exactly opposed. Sometimes the days seem too hard to try on his own.

It’s going to be a mutual thing, of course, but Steve would have to be completely oblivious not to realize that by now.

Sam puffs out a sigh. Some face has to be saved here. “I draw the line at clothing.”

“Really?” Steve doesn’t try to hide his relief but he’s quick to fall back on jokes. “That’s a shame. I saw some knee high boots that I think you’d look amazing in. Ouch! Stop kicking your benefactor, Sam!”


	3. Ask a Stupid Question (Established Rhodey/Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone asks the question at least once a day.
> 
>  
> 
> _Why do you put up with him?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Not Applicable's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/not_applicable/pseuds/Not%20Applicable) prompt 'questioning'.

Someone asks the question at least once a day.

_Why do you put up with him?_

It is, quite honestly, one of the dumbest questions Jim has ever gotten. Sometimes one of the more offensive ones too if the person asking thinks Jim’s reasons aren’t on the up and up.

Jim will think about it for a second, though, because stupid or not it’s still the sort of question that deserves a little thought.

He’ll flashback to his college years, fuzzy with time and more than a little alcohol. That first meeting that should have been awful but turned out pretty great, working together on homework or projects, crashing out afterward curled around and half on top of each other like puppies. Tony’s never gotten the military thing or school pride but he’d come to every event where Jim was in uniform, taking pictures for Jim’s mom and babbling like a proud parent after each one.

Jim will remember Tony coming with him to the airport, every time without fail, whenever Jim is heading back to the desert. The face Tony makes is always some blend of pride, sadness, and dread, all badly concealed no matter how hard Tony tries. His hugs are always a little too tight, just like Jim’s.

Next will be the way Tony sounds when the war has put Jim out of contact for too long, all concern and yearning and fear beneath bad jokes that wrap Jim up like a blanket when he needs it the most. And then there’s the kisses when Jim gets back, a little too hard, a lot too desperate, and perfect in every way. Tony trying to cook Jim’s favorite meals with recipes he’s clearly gotten from Jim’s mother, the two probably conspiring together over a hot stove as they try to improve Tony’s cooking.

Jim will be smiling by that point, big and stupid and fond, lost in memories. Then he’ll say, “He’s not so bad,” because Tony has an image he wants to maintain. But there’s a question of Jim’s own he’ll swallow down instead of asking.

_How can you not want to be with someone who loves you just as much as you love them?_


	4. Starling (Pre-Slash Bruce/Steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone knows Hulk has wings, massive beautiful green ones edged in purple that seem to go on forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Zekkass](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/pseuds/Zekkass) who wanted wingfic.

Everyone knows Hulk has wings, massive beautiful green ones edged in purple that seem to go on forever. He usually keeps them folded in tight, but they’ll spread to help slow his fall or to shield him from enemy fire.

What most people--including Steve until that moment--don’t know is that Bruce has wings too. His are too tiny to be functional and shiny black, the longer feathers outlined in tan while the color only touches the tips of the smaller ones. Starling wings. When he shifts, nervous and wary, the light pulls greens and purples from the black. 

They’re gorgeous. _Bruce_ is gorgeous even tired and dirty from the transformation, body tensing as if to run from or attack Steve for finding out his secret.

And Steve is sorry, he really is, but it couldn’t be helped. There are rumbles from Washington, nervousness about the way the team lets Hulk wander off to transform in peace before Bruce returns to them fully clothed. The only way to quell future calls for Bruce and Hulk to be ‘dealt’ with in some fashion is to make it seem like they’re under some degree of supervision. The task has fallen to Steve since he garners slightly less attention than Tony and Hulk still has issues with Thor.

Hulk had let Steve follow, had let him see this, despite Bruce’s obvious distress.

Steve doesn’t ask how Bruce hides them. He can see by the way Bruce is folding them close to his back that they could easily fit under loose enough clothing.

“I’m sorry, Bruce.”

“What are you going to do?” Bruce asks, hurried and scared. Hunched in on himself like he’s expecting a blow. 

Steve’s brow knits, confused and suspecting it’s going to turn into anger very soon. “Nothing. Why would I do anything about it?”

“Everyone else seems to think they should,” is the answer, almost more growl than syllables. And yeah, Steve is mad now, but he pushes it down so Bruce won’t smell it.

“I don’t get what it’s like having wings,” Steve says carefully, making slow progress toward Bruce. “But I do know what it’s like to be bullied because of how I looked. I’m not going to do the same to you. You don’t deserve it. No one does.”

That seems to relax Bruce, the wings spreading open in relief. They fan the air slightly as Steve reaches him, then fold back in a way that feels more relaxed than their previous clench.

“They’re beautiful, Bruce. That’s maybe not something you want to hear but they really are. _You’re_ beautiful.” 

Bruce stares at him, incredulous. Steve wants to hug him, wants to kiss him and see how soft those feathers are, but he helps find Bruce clothes instead.


	5. Craft Therapy (Pre-Slash Bruce/Steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he stares down at the mess of clay on his wheel making a sad attempt at being a bowl, Bruce thinks this might just add to his anger rather than relieve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [bonzai_bunny](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bonzai_bunny/pseuds/bonzai_bunny) who wanted Steve as an instructor for a pottery class that Bruce goes to to help with his anger problems.

Bruce really isn’t sure about this. It was his therapist’s idea and he had gone along with it because any little bit helps. But as he stares down at the mess of clay on his wheel making a sad attempt at being a bowl, Bruce thinks this might just add to his anger rather than relieve it.

“It’s alright,” the instructor, Mr. Rogers, says as he comes around. He’s a young guy, late twenties or early thirties, and the sort of good looking that has about half the class lusting after him. Bruce dips his head. He’s at least ten years older and a mess, he doesn’t have the time or energy to let Mr. Rogers’ sweet smiles affect him.

“I know everybody wants to remake that scene from Ghost, but it’s a pretty hard skill to master.”

“It’s slimy,” Bruce complains, internally groaning at how petulant he sounds. He’s going to be picking clay out from under his fingernails for a week though.

Mr. Rogers’ smile goes a little mischievous. “That does kill some of the mystique.” He glances around at the other students with an air of amusement. “You’re good with your hands. All you need is practice.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” Bruce grumbles, startling at the bark of laughter it gets from Mr. Rogers. He’s gone before Bruce can parse it, off to visit encouraging words on the next helpless soul. Bruce gazes down at his not-bowl and despairs.

“Dr. Banner,” Mr. Rogers calls out when class ends and everyone begins to fall out. Bruce hangs back despite his instincts telling him to duck out now before the cute young man makes him look like an aging idiot. Mr. Rogers waits until they’re alone before continuing.

“If you think it’s only going to aggravate your anger issues to continue, you should drop the class.” Bruce tenses and Mr. Rogers hold his hands up in peace. “It’s how I got started on this too, so I can tell the signs. But this isn’t helpful for everyone.”

Bruce resists the urge to scrub a hand over his face. He doesn’t trust that he got all the clay off. “I don’t know what this does for me.”

“Okay,” Mr. Rogers says slowly. His smile is far too easy and relaxed. “How about this: I give you one on one help outside of class. Then maybe you’ll know if it’s the frustration of not having enough help getting to you or the wheel’s just not your thing.” 

Bruce narrows his eyes at him. This all sounds very suspicious. “Wait, are you setting me up?”

“Kinda,” Mr. Rogers admits with an unrepentant grin. “You’re cute. I really do want to help you but I’m not above taking advantage.”

It’s a terrible idea, but Bruce finds himself settling on a time and date anyway.


	6. Delayed Engagement (Pre-Slash Steve/Sam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He meets Sam again in the middle of chaos and gunfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't exactly a prompt fill. An anon sent me an ask saying I should write skinny Steve/Sam sex but I didn’t notice the sex part. This is what came out of it before I noticed so, uh, this isn’t the fill. It’s like a prequel to the fill, I guess.
> 
> So here’s an AU with a modernized version of Steve’s story but his physical appearance remains the same, there’s no Tesseract, Peggy’s a Commando, and they’re up against the Ten Rings instead of Hydra because I needed an organized, heavily armed group that made sense with the changed setting.
> 
> And no, I really don't know why most of these are pre-slash but Steve's going to get his man and the sequel's gonna have sex wooo.

When Steve is five and Sam is seven, Steve decides in the middle of playing soldiers that he’s going to marry Sam. Steve’s mother and Bucky are the only ones who don’t laugh when he says as much, both taking it with the same degree of respectful seriousness that he does. He waits to ask Sam, clumsy fingers fashioning a ring at Bucky’s insistence.

Sam moves away before Steve can give it to him. Steve cries about it for weeks, months. Years pass and time frays at the memories until they’re just a pang of sadness he sometimes gets without really knowing why. 

It’s a long time before they meet again. Not until after Project Rebirth makes Steve strong but not big, and he’s pushed to the sidelines again. Peggy and desperation finally get him to the fight and taking out a Ten Rings outpost to save Bucky and the other soldiers finally gets him seen as more than an expensive failure. They let him form his Commandos after that, no doubt silently scowling when Peggy is one of the first people he extends the offer to.

He meets Sam again in the middle of chaos and gunfire, him and his Commandos laying waste to another outpost while captured soldiers are moved to safety. At first, Steve doesn’t know it’s Sam swooping in like a guardian angel to offer aid and cover. It’s been too long and they’ve changed so much. 

But Sam recognizes him, spares Steve and Bucky a quick smile and a ‘we used to play together’ before turning his full attention back to the mission. There’s a rapid fire click of memories into place but Steve has to put that on hold, has to focus on the task at hand. 

Sam’s gone by the time Steve’s finished reeling, metal wings carrying him high into the air. He’s a sight to behold, heaven sent, and Steve’s already wondering where he can buy a nice ring.


	7. Like Cradling a Secret (Pre-Relationship Triplett/Simmons)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antoine definitely notices when the rhythm seems to falter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [quandong_crumble](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quandong_crumble) who prompted Triplett/Simmons and "accidentally" touching hands.
> 
> I'll eventually write something where people aren't just mooning at each other. But not today.

It takes time to find the rhythm when working with new people. It comes easy and fast with Simmons though, like they were specifically fashioned to fit together. Maybe it would feel the same with Fitz if the angry little thing would calm down long enough for them find out. 

So Antoine definitely notices when the rhythm seems to falter. Can even pinpoint it right down to the precise gesture: the quick nudge of her fingers against his when he hands her a sample to analyze, the way she manages to brush the heel of his palm as she takes it. 

But it happens a couple more times before he really catches on. He doesn’t waste time feeling dumb about it. Just because he thinks she’s the sort of precious you appreciate with kisses doesn’t mean he could start making assumptions about her feelings.

He keeps his mouth to himself but his fingers butt against Simmons’, make brief explorations of knuckles and fingernails, learns through fleeting touches the calluses her work has left on her. It’s like cradling a secret between them, and the sweet slyness of her expression shoots a thrill along his spine every time.


End file.
